


equilibrium

by markohmark



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Slightly Non-Linear, markhyuck in america, they're... in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 01:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18714118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markohmark/pseuds/markohmark
Summary: “Don’t worry, hyung.” His voice seemed closer, now, and Mark could feel Donghyuck’s breath fanning out against his cheek. “I’ll take care of you.”Mark hadn’t been able to sleep for the whole night, after that.(or: Mark, and loving Donghyuck without words)





	equilibrium

**Author's Note:**

> credits to markhyuckarchiv on twt for all of these moments, first thing i've ever written that's actually somewhat grounded in canon!! eee

They don’t talk much about the fight, anymore, but Mark will never forget how it ended: Mark was sitting at the kitchen counter, late from individual promotions and hungry as hell, looking down at the miserable leftovers he had to eat.

Donghyuck ambled into the kitchen slowly; he was so casual and sleep-worn that Mark knew he had to be faking it.

“What are you eating, hyung?” Donghyuck asked, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. As if they hadn’t been acting like strangers for the past couple of weeks.

Mark sighed, poking at the rice in front of him half-heartedly. “Go to sleep, Donghyuck-ah,” he replied. It irked him, that he was so dependent on Donghyuck in such small ways. Even now, he kept thinking of the time Donghyuck had found him eating leftover stock and rice, the amusement and worry all laced together: _hyung, what are you eating? I knew your tastes were boring but still…_

Donghyuck had ended up cooking fried rice for him, that night, and the two of them had eaten quietly in the kitchen, reveling in their solitude. Now, such a moment seemed as far away as the place he once called home. It was as if Donghyuck was across the ocean, recently, every word distorted in communication. Even touching felt like some unspoken _wrong_.

“If you don’t want me to cook for you,” Donghyuck began, as far from the truth as he could possibly get, “you should at least learn how to make food for yourself.” He sounded almost petulant. Mark struggled to hide his smile in his rice.

“I miss your food,” Mark replied. It was hard to look at Donghyuck, at that moment—not tired, earnestly confused Donghyuck, still wearing some hyung’s shirt that was two sizes too large—so he directed his words at his leftovers. “I miss it a lot.”

Donghyuck didn’t reply. Not with his words, at least. But he responded with his hands, which snatched Mark’s leftovers away in lieu of making something more edible; with his eyes, that carefully measured Mark’s reaction to the meal, tracking every bite; with his smile, cautious and bright as Mark finished his food.

“Thank you,” Mark said, once he was done, feeling almost—awkward. He had never felt this precarious with Donghyuck before. It was as if everything was made of glass, delicate and quietly beautiful.

Donghyuck ducked his head, newly shy. “No problem, hyung.”

 

 

 

 

 

Over the course of months, Mark stopped being so careful. Jaemin came back, finally, after what seemed like an eternity of recovering, and his friendship with Donghyuck seemed to shift back to an equilibrium with it.

“Come on,” Donghyuck said one morning, standing in the middle of the kitchen. They didn’t have schedules till 1pm, and so most of the other members were fast asleep. Mark himself didn’t _really_ know why he bothered to be awake. Well, he did know _why_ : “You aren’t gonna learn how to fry an egg by just standing there, Mark-hyung.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mark mumbled in response, still rubbing the sleep dust out of his eyes. “Alright, show me, Donghyuck-ah.”

“Can you crack an egg?” Donghyuck asked skeptically. “You can do that at least, right?”

“I’m not completely incompetent—” Mark began, defensive.

“That’s what they all say,” Donghyuck muttered underneath his breath, rolling his eyes.

Mark managed to crack an egg decently, but not without breaking the yolk. Donghyuck peered at the bowl with an expression of mild distaste.

“It’s okay, hyung,” Donghyuck said, patting Mark’s back gently. His hands were warm, and it felt like sunshine falling across his skin. “We can make scrambled eggs today.”

Mark didn’t know that even frying eggs had to be done a certain way until Donghyuck had taught him. He stirred the mixture on the pan, listening to the sizzle and crackle of it and feeling as if he was doing something decently right.

“Oh, _hyung_ ,” Donghyuck said, mouth shockingly close to Mark’s ear, “make sure you scrape the sides of the pan, too.” His breath smelled minty, like his toothpaste. Suddenly every small detail seemed distracting.

“What?” Mark asked blankly. Donghyuck’s hand joined his on top of the spatula, guiding him. He looked down to see their hands together, the contrast of it, and wondered if Donghyuck could feel his heart beating over the sound of frying eggs.

“See?” Donghyuck continued, soft into his ear. “Just like this.”

Mark shivered and wrenched his hand away. “I think that’s enough for today,” he said hurriedly. His hands were clammy, for whatever reason, and he wiped them down on his pajamas several times. It didn’t help.

Nothing that Mark ever did to distance himself, to avoid the huge goddamn elephant in the room, ever really helped all that much.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _Mark can fall asleep in fifteen seconds,_ is what Jaehyun says when asked about NCT’s weirdest sleeping habits. And that’s true, for the most part. But there was one time that he wasn’t asleep, that he couldn’t fall asleep.

Sometimes it still haunts him:

“Mark-hyung, are you awake?” Donghyuck whispered. Mark held himself as still as possible while Donghyuck leaned over to peer at his face. “Ah, he’s asleep.”

There were a couple clicking noises as Donghyuck turned the bedside lamp off, then sudden darkness. Mark resisted the urge to open his eyes. It was cute to see Donghyuck thinking he was asleep, to hear the gentleness in Donghyuck’s voice when he thought no one was listening.

“You must be so tired,” Donghyuck continued. His hand reached out to pet Mark’s forehead gently, fingertips brushing his hair. “Wow, your hair is like straw.”

“Don’t worry, hyung.” His voice seemed closer, now, and Mark could feel Donghyuck’s breath fanning out against his cheek. “I’ll take care of you.”

With that, Donghyuck got up from the bed swiftly. He shut the door behind him with a thud.

Mark hadn’t been able to sleep for the whole night, after that.

 

 

 

 

 

America is _exciting_. Mark isn’t too sure about it, not at first—not when they were walking in Times Square, with everyone crowding around them, and him repeating “I’m sorry, we aren’t BTS” more times then he could possibly count—but by the time they end up in Miami he _loves_ it. It’s sunny, it’s warm, and they manage to make time to go to the beach while they’re at it. They all look ridiculous with their newly-bought Miami shirts and sandals—except for Donghyuck, whose legs are still  _smooth_ despite everything—and he couldn't have it any other way.

“Try to catch me!” Mark calls, voice lost in the wind. His arms are outstretched, ready to take on the world. Ready to take on whatever Donghyuck’s willing to give.

“I will!” Donghyuck shouts back, grinning. Maybe it’s the silver hair, maybe it’s the Miami sun, maybe it’s all of those things and maybe it’s just Lee Donghyuck being a force of nature himself, but: Mark loves him.

When Donghyuck tags him, he lifts Mark up until his feet no longer touch the ground, suspended in the air by the sheer strength of Donghyuck’s arms. In the same way, his heart, too, soars because of Donghyuck.

“I’ve got you, hyung,” Donghyuck says, laughing. He lets go and the two of them run together across the beach, feet covered in sand. The sky gleams in its cerulean perfection, and everything feels _right_ when they’re together.

“I know,” Mark replies. “I know you do.”

 

 

 

 

 

The host asks, “Which member of NCT is the most likely to cook for everyone?” and Mark holds up the sign that says HAECHAN on it in capital letters, thinking of all the times Donghyuck fulfilled his promise to take care of him. When Mark embarrasses the hell out of himself by attempting to play the flute—he knew how to play it in elementary school, alright? it's been a while—he hears Donghyuck’s voice in the background saying _Mark, what are you doing, man?_ and keeps going.

They go to Dallas, and at night Mark asks Donghyuck, in front of the whole crowd: “What did you do here in Dallas over the two days?”

Donghyuck smiles, says, “Mark and me went…” he pauses. The two of them had practiced the word carefully just hours ago: _a_ _r-bor-e-tum, _a_ _r-bor-e-tum__.

It takes a couple of tries for him to get through the word, but Donghyuck powers through it, the crowd cheering for him the entire time.

“Arboretum, yeah,” Mark says, as Donghyuck rests a hand on his shoulder. “That’s hard to pronounce. Arboretum.” Just thinking about the two of them walking there together, viewing all of the plants and feeling the fresh air, makes him warm.

“I saw flowers that were prettier than Mark-hyung,” Donghyuck adds, in Korean. “And air as fresh as me.”

Mark smiles at that, tries not to look too fond. Later, when they’re alone, he’ll work up the courage to say: _Donghyuck-ah, you were more beautiful than anything I saw at the Arboretum._

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](http://twitter.com/mathmxrk) / [cc](http://curiouscat.me/mathmxrk) / feel free to leave concrit [here](https://markohmark.dreamwidth.org/2671.html) / [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/fullmoonjournal)
> 
> i wrote this in one sitting, please be kind <3 comments & kudos are appreciated!!


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